


Every Morning

by Emela



Series: Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek, Cock Piercing, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Derek Feels, Dirty Talk, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Minor Angst, Minor Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Multiple Orgasms, POV Derek Hale, Pining Derek, Porn With Plot, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3576939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emela/pseuds/Emela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Derek never asked for a research assistant. The ad supposedly placed by him for one is a practical joke of Laura’s when he is writing his first novel. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>'Erotic writer needs assistant to research sex blogs, watch porn (because there is only so much masturbation a guy can do every day) and interview people willing to discuss what turns them on.'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He is going to kill her. He really, truly plans on killing her. First of all, he isn’t going to pay someone to do what he can do himself for free. Secondly, he isn’t going to pay someone to masturbate to porn in his own home, and third-</em>
</p><p> <em>Third is lost when Stiles Stilinski shows up at his door.</em></p><p>OR</p><p>The one where Stiles needs a fake boyfriend to take to his high-school reunion and Derek...is so screwed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Post for the most patient of anons who asked for fake boyfriend Sterek + coming in pants + Prince Albert piercing. I hope it's what you wanted, lovely Anon! (Feel free to shout at me if it isn't.) 
> 
> I had originally planned for this to be PWP, but then back-story happened. I hope you like it?
> 
> P.S. I swear one of the days I'm going to write sex where Derek doesn't have intense emotional feelings during, but today is not that day!

Derek never asked for a research assistant. The ad supposedly placed by him for one is a practical joke of Laura’s when he is writing his first novel.

_Erotic writer needs assistant to research sex blogs, watch porn (because there is only so much masturbation a guy can do every day) and interview people willing to discuss what turns them on._

He is going to kill her. He really, truly plans on killing her. First of all, he isn’t going to pay someone to do what he can do himself for free. Secondly, he isn’t going to pay someone to masturbate to porn in his _own_ _home,_ and third-

Third is lost when Stiles Stilinski shows up at his door the next day with bed tousled hair, wearing a red-hoodie and really, _really_ tight jeans that Derek bets his ass looks glorious in if only he will turn around.

Derek takes one look at him, takes in long fingers; fingers that are attached to sinful, strong hands- who even has hands like that? - a mole splattered, perfect face with the amber eyes that remind him of the whiskey his dad used to drink; and _lips,_ pink, plush lips that Derek really wants on him. And instead of saying the rational thing, the thing he has been practising ever since Laura put the stupid ad out in the first place, he just stands there, not sure what to do with his hands or where to even _look_ because everything about this guy is turning him on. It has already gotten to the point where he doesn’t know whether he wants to kill Laura or take her to that really expensive restaurant she has been wanting to try for months.

No, his big grand opening line is, “I write gay porn.”

To which attractive guy with the attractive everything says, “I’m Stiles. Great, I love dicks. This is going to be awesome,” and proceeds to actually fist pump the air.

What Derek _should_ say at this point is _there has been a misunderstanding._ What he actually says is, “Can you start today?”

So, really, the day Stiles Stilinski turns up at his door one year ~~of late nights of brooding and pining later~~ and asks, “Will you pretend to be my boyfriend so I can go to my high school reunion, so no-one will think I’m still the pathetic loser who could never get dates?” it’s hardly likely Derek is going to say no.

***

That’s how Derek ends up in the passenger seat of a baby blue jeep with an extremely nervous Stiles whose leg just won’t stop bouncing at every other stop light.

Eventually, Derek has to put his hand on it (for calming purposes only, of course) and Stiles shoots him a surprised, but grateful smile that reminds Derek he’s been in love with this kid- man- for quite possibly eleven months and twenty-eight days now and has missed his chance to do anything about it.

Derek knows this because three months into their working relationship, Stiles started calling him “dude” and “bro” and began talking to him about his many failed (but unfortunately for Derek, sometimes very successful) dates. Stiles doesn’t even have the courtesy to hold back on describing the sex most of the time, but then, Derek _is_ an erotic writer. He supposes Stiles thinks he’s being helpful in his over-sharing.

“So, I know all I’ve told you about this is that’s it’s my high-school reunion,” Stiles says, eyes focused on the road ahead, giving Derek the perfect chance to steal side-ways glances at him. He doesn’t always get to be this close up to Stiles and when he does, he doesn’t waste any time in admiring all that magnified beauty. (He knows it’s creepy, really he does, but sometimes Stiles scrunches up his nose in this way which makes him look like a baby fox about to sneeze and every _this is weird, what the hell are you doing?_ thought in his head just melts away.)

“In our senior year, my dad married my best friend’s mom. I think I’ve talked about Scott before?” Derek nods and refrains from saying _all the time._ “Scotty and I both went to college in New York and they kind of just followed us out there, so my last day of high-school was basically the last time I set foot in Beacon Hills.”

“ _Beacon Hills_?” Derek doesn’t quite mean to bark, but it comes out hoarse enough that Stiles gives him a concerned once over.

“Yeah, you know it?”

“You could say that,” Derek says, feeling his body tense. “I- uh, used to live there.” Stiles knows it’s just him and Laura now, but he doesn’t want to answer the onslaught of questions he has probably already formed in his head. Stiles never has anything _but_ questions usually. It’s what makes him such a great research assistant (funnily enough). There’s honestly nothing he doesn’t want to know more about.

To his surprise, however, Stiles only frowns and asks Derek if he’s still okay to go with him.

Derek wants to say no, but the look in Stiles’ eyes, the one that tells him he will turn the car right around if Derek says no, has him forcing a smile and nodding his head. Stiles has never asked him for anything and even though he will never know it, has eased a loneliness in Derek he hadn’t even been aware of. He doesn’t necessarily owe it to Stiles, he thinks, but he deserves to not feel shit at his own high-school reunion at the very least.

Derek nods his head again and Stiles relaxes back into his seat.

“I was really unpopular in school,” he says and Derek is glad for the subject change. “Scott and I basically only had each other. I wasn’t picked on or anything, but I was that weird kid with ADHD who wrote papers on the history of the male circumcision for kicks, and well,” he shrugs, “that’s really it. Scott had a little more luck than me. Dated this really popular girl named Allison for a while. Lost his virginity to her and everything. Want to hear about it?”

Derek bites back the amused smile that threatens to burst onto his face at Stiles’ earnest tone.

“You know, just because I write about sex doesn’t mean I always want to hear about it.”

Stiles laughs and Derek’s stomach does a little flip because Stiles has the _best_ laugh. He doesn’t quite know why, but it reminds him of Christmas and memories of _before_. When he had been happy.

“Sorry, dude. I just assumed.” He bites his lip, possibly holding back a smile and moves his hand to turn on the radio. A song about calling someone maybe comes on Derek hasn’t heard before, but Stiles immediately starts mouthing the words, shoulders dancing in a way Derek doesn’t know whether he wants to laugh at or scold himself for finding endearing.

“You don’t really want to hear that story anyway,” Stiles continues after a moment. “There are things in it I’m _still_ trying to repress.” Stiles shudders and Derek rolls his eyes, although he doesn’t doubt Stiles is telling the truth.

“Is Scott going to be there?” he asks. “At the reunion?”

“Hell yeah he is,” Stiles grins. “He was actually supposed to hitch a ride with us, but Melissa, that’s my step-mom, apparently wants to come down and visit an old patient of hers, so they’re coming down together tomorrow.”

“Isn’t he going to miss the dinner tonight?” Derek asks, frowning. Stiles’ cheeks colour a little as he worries his lower lip, looking over at Derek sheepishly.

“Actually, the dinner isn’t until Tuesday.” Derek’s frown deepens.

“So what’s on tonight then?”

“Uh…nothing?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Nothing.”

“ _Monday_?”

“…Nothing.”

“Stiles-”

“I know, okay?” He runs a hand through his hair and Derek is caught off guard, forcing himself to look away. It wouldn’t be the first time watching Stiles’ fingers spread out like that gave him an inappropriate boner.

“It’s just-” he sighs. “I really, really want people to believe we’ve dating for longer than like a week and I know that’s stupid and that I shouldn’t care, but I do, so I thought we could, you know, use tonight and the next two days to…learn each other.”

“Learn each other?” It’s those exact words that tell Derek he isn’t going to last the week. What kind of high-school reunion lasts a week anyway? Well, apparently it’s only supposed to be four days given Stiles’ slight exaggeration of the truth, but even that seems a little excessive to Derek. Aren’t these things usually a dinner and maybe a picnic the morning after?  

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “I’ve worked for you just over a year now and all I really know about you is that you write really hot sex and that you’re allergic to mushrooms. Oh, and your favourite movie is _Sixteen Candles._ ”

“It is not-” Derek begins to protest, but Stiles cuts him off with a smirk.

“Don’t even try and deny it. Laura told me you own one copy for every room in your apartment.”

Derek feels his cheeks burning, but Stiles doesn’t take any notice, letting his mouth run a little more freely now they’ve reached the bypass. “That’s another thing. I didn’t even know you had a sister for the first four months I worked for you. I only found out because she was early for work one morning and decided to drop off a blueberry pie she baked for you. My _favourite pie,_ from my _favourite_ New York bakery, Derek. How did I not know that?”

“That my sister owns _Paw-Print Pies_?”

“Yes!” Stiles exclaims, bringing a hand down to slap his thigh for emphasis. “I talked about that place for weeks and you never said anything.”

Derek stares resolutely out the window. Yes, he hadn’t said anything because at the time Laura had been looking for someone to work for her and when she realised Stiles was actually _Stiles_ “my most regular and cherished customer” (Derek still has no idea how she found that out) who sometimes gave her his mom’s old recipes to try, it was everything Derek could do to get her to let him keep Stiles. He probably should have given Stiles the option of leaving, but then Stiles had said how much he hoped Derek would never stop writing because he lovedthis job with a capital-L and Derek…Derek had just closed his mouth on the matter.

By the time Stiles introduced Laura as his sister, she had already hired someone who she was too much in love with to fire, even if Stiles was to find out he had been first choice for the job. (Derek soothed his conscience by raising Stiles’ salary by 15% and pretending it was something he had planned to do all along.)

“I didn’t want you thinking you could get free pie just because you knew the owner’s brother,” Derek says stupidly, wanting to punch himself. Laura is the girl who gets into bar fights whenever she goes out, but she’s also the most generous person Derek knows. He knows that. _Stiles_ probably knows that.

“Laura gives me free pie all the time anyway,” Stiles says, and is it just Derek’s imagination or does he sound a little hurt? “I would never have put you in that position though.”

“I never thought you”- but he cuts himself off, because that _is_ what he hasjust implied. “Sorry. Tell me about Scott’s first time. You deserve to share the burden with someone.”

Stiles’ face softens and Derek watches in relief as he breaks out into a smile.

“Are you sure about that, dude?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Definitely,” Derek says (which is subsequently how Derek manages to sell his first screw-ball erotic comedy two years later, out-selling E.L. James which Laura never stops thanking him for.)

***

Derek vaguely remembers the hotel Stiles has booked for them. It’s not far from the Sheriff’s station, which he quickly learns used to be Stiles’ Dad’s position.

“He’s retired now, thank god,” Stiles says as they wait for the receptionist to finish a rather tense phone-call by the sounds of things. “I don’t have to worry so much about losing him anymore.” He says it like it’s a joke, but Derek hears the relief there and watches the way his body sags with it, like it’s not something he always remembers, and when he does, relaxes just that little bit further. Derek knows the feeling. It’s the exact same one he gets whenever Laura walks through his door or calls him last thing at night to talk about their day.

“You asked for two singles?” the receptionist finally asks, putting the phone down.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Stiles chirps, giving her a firm wink and she actually _giggles._ Stiles looks as surprised as Derek is, but Derek suspects that’s because Stiles has this insane delusion no-one finds him attractive, or sexy or _goddamn distracting_ rather than the fact he just made someone with a grumpier face than Derek’s _giggle._

“That’s no problem,” she says, smiling. “Are you here for the Beacon Hills Class Reunion?” Stiles nods. “I thought so. There’s been quite a lot of bookings here because of it, which you can imagine we’re very happy about.” Beacon Hills has never been a tourist location for as long as Derek can remember and he finds himself nodding, pulling the receptionists attention towards him.

“You know…I have a double room that just opened up this morning if you boys would prefer that?” It’s her turn to wink and Derek nearly chokes on his own tongue.

“Oh, we’re not-” he begins to say, but Stiles interrupts him, cutting him off with a glare.

“My boyfriend is a little old school,” he says, rolling his eyes and Derek feels his face flush when he remembers he’s supposed to beStiles’ boyfriend for the week, and curses himself for not jumping at the chance to share a room with him. If he had just kept his mouth shut they could have been sharing a bed tonight. (Derek doesn’t even want to consider how pathetic that one thought makes him. It’s not like they would have been doing anything other than sleeping in it. He would have probably offered to take the floor at the last minute anyway because there’s that little thing called _morning wood_ to think of that would in no way be helped by a Stiles Stilinski next to him.)

“Between you and me,” Stiles leans in close to the receptionist and Derek doesn’t miss the way her breath hitches, but apparently Stiles does, glancing briefly back at Derek instead saying, “I think he’s afraid that if we share the same bed, he’ll convince me to stay in it for the rest of the week. It’s happened before.” He winks and Derek’s cock twitches. Fuck his life. “So, if it’s alright, we’ll take the single rooms.”

“Of course,” she stutters out and Stiles fist pumps the air when she turns away to get their keys. Derek rolls his eyes, certain it looks far fonder than he wants it to, but the way Stiles just smiles at him in return leaves him not being able to care less.

***

“I don’t like coffee,” Stiles says, sitting down on Derek’s bed.

“What happened to single rooms?” Derek quirks an eyebrow. “You just embarrassed me over getting them. The least you could do is go and un-pack in your own room.”

“I embarrassed you?” Stiles asks, face falling and Derek feels like an asshole, although he doesn’t exactly know why. He sighs.

“I know you don’t like coffee,” he says, sitting down beside him. “What’s your favourite movie?” Stiles’ eyes light up.

“The Batman trilogy,” he states, like he’s just answered with something complicated and pretentious, preening like a peacock.

“Of course it is,” Derek mutters, shaking his head. Stiles had actually tried to convince him to use Batman pornwhen researching BDSM practices for Derek’s last book.

“It was role play, Derek. It counted!” Stiles exclaims, reading his mind. Derek gives him a flat look.

“Batman is not sexy, Stiles.”

“Yes, he is! How can anyone not find Batman- wait. Oh, no, you’re not a _Superman_ fan, are you? Derek? _Derek?_ Please tell me you’re not a Superman fan.”

“I’m not,” Derek says, unable to resist looking Stiles up and down, taking in the lean muscle definition of his arms; his chest that fills out his t-shirt more than nicely. “I’d say I’m more of a Spiderman fan.”

Stiles gulps and his cheeks flush, and Derek thinks he’s given too much away- he hasn’t meant to actually _tease,_ but then Stiles lies down on the bottom of the bed and tucks his arms under his head and Derek breathes an inward sigh of relief.

“I used to get panic attacks after my mom died,” he confesses. “Still do sometimes.” Derek contemplates this. He’s not ready to tell Stiles about the fire. Doesn’t want him to put two and two together and maybe remember him. Derek has no recollection of Stiles before he met him last year, but Derek is almost certain Stiles will remember _those kids whose family burned to death in a fire_ if given something to go on.

“I’m scared of clowns,” Derek says instead, really wishing he hadn’t when Stiles’ whole face lights up. He just knows there’s going to be some kind of clown porn in his future now. He shudders at the idea.

“No way,” Stiles breathes. “No way.” Derek nods, jutting his chin out in a _your turn_ motion.

“I’m not scared of anything,” Stiles says. “But I’m afraid of being alone.”

“I put honey in cereal instead of milk.”

“Curly fries is my favourite food.”

“I can speak and read in Spanish. My favourite book is _The Princess Bride._ ”

“Foul!” Stiles exclaims. “That’s not Spanish!” Derek huffs a laugh.

“I like the Spanish translation,” he shrugs.

“Of course you do,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes with his whole body, mimicking the tone of Derek’s earlier words. Derek levels him with a glare.

“You again,” he says.

“Were you one of those kids who always made everyone play by the rules when playing pass the parcel?” Stiles asks, turning his head to look at Derek.

“That wasn’t a fact about yourself,” he answers, folding his arms.

“Case and point,” Stiles sighs, but he smiles and Derek raises a hand to his face to hide his own. He smiles a lot around Stiles and while he still feels guilty for it, for feeling happy when his family isn’t here, it feels nice too.

“Laura is my best friend,” he whispers. “My only friend.”

“That’s not true,” Stiles says, rolling on to his side to look at Derek properly. “You’ve got me.” He pauses, flustered. “I mean, I always thought we were friends- if you don’t think of me like that though, it’s cool, I-”

“Stiles?”

Amber eyes catch his and Derek had almost forgotten for a second how much Stiles’ eyes can take his breath away. (And yes, he’s aware he sounds like a cliché romantic novel right now, thank you very much.)

“Yeah?” Stiles breathes, leaning a little closer, like he’s waiting for something.

“We’re friends,” Derek says.

Stiles’ eyes drop and his face does something Derek can’t quite place.

“Derek?” he says, after a moment.

“Yes, Stiles?”

“Thanks for coming out here with me.”

Derek doesn’t think Stiles realises when he reaches out to place his hand on top of his, but Derek certainly doesn’t draw attention to it, wanting to bask in the touch for as long as he can get away with it.

***

“It’s going to be fine,” Derek says when Stiles opens up the door to his room. He isn’t completely dressed yet, shirt half buttoned, giving Derek an unfair view of his treasure trail, leading to places Derek really doesn’t want to be thinking about right now; thoughts, he may add, that aren’t helped by the fact Stiles is only wearing boxers. They’re loose and Derek can’t see anything through them, but it’s enough that he has to bite back a whine.

“No, Derek, it’s not,” Stiles says, beginning to pace. “I don’t think you understand how unpopular I was. I thought I could handle this, but I feel like I’m that kid again who’s trying desperately not to be seen as the Sheriff’s son. No-one invited me to parties because they thought I’d call my Dad. Scott and I used to drink alone in the woods because of it. Oh my god,” he groans. “He was tainted by association! Scott probably would have been popular if it wasn’t for me.” He throws his hands up in the air and the shirt rides up and Derek…Derek needs to say something.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” he tries to pacify. “If they really wanted Scott at a party they would have invited him and just asked him not to tell you.”

“Wow, that makes me feel so much better,” Stiles deadpans.

Derek looks down at his feet, shuffling awkwardly.

“I’m horrible at advice,” he says, folding his arms across his chest and shrugging.

“I used to think that scowl you’re wearing was because you were in a bad mood,” Stiles says. “Now I know it’s your permanent face.”

“Shut up,” Derek growls, feeling embarrassed, but when he notices how Stiles’ mood changes, muscles relaxing, eyes going softer when Derek raises his own again, he feels…good. Why does making Stiles even just a little bit happier have to make him feel so… _good?_

“I bet you were one of the jocks in high school, right?” Stiles asks. “The dinner is in the school. If we sneak off to the trophy cabinet, will I see your name on at least three?” Derek scoffs.

“I was on the basketball team, but I spent most of my time in the choir room.”

Stiles’ eyes widen and he falls down on the bed dramatically, lying there for a few moments before springing back up again.

“You were in _show choir_?” he splutters, walking a couple of paces towards him. Derek’s cheeks heat up. “Will you sing for me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Stiles pouts.

“No.”

“That’s not a reason.”

Derek sighs.

“The last performance I ever did…my sister Cora was cheering me on. I can’t. I just…”

“…can’t,” Stiles finishes for him, closing the remaining space between them.

He leans in then, as though about to hug him, but at the last minute pulls away, putting a hand on his shoulder instead, letting it linger there.

“Telling me that alone? That’s massive, dude. Really.” He smiles. “Well done.” The words should be patronising, but on Stiles they’re nothing but sincere and Derek preens a little at the praise. He hasn’t opened up to anyone before about his family. He doesn’t even talk about them with Laura, unless he’s drunk. Or it’s his Birthday.

“You can still back out of this, you know. If it’s too painful.”

Derek shakes his head.

“I’ve been told I look hotter than the sun before, so let’s go make some people jealous of your _boyfriend.”_ He means it teasingly, but his throat catches on the last word, a lump forming in his throat and suddenly, images of him and Stiles, lazing in bed on a Sunday morning, arguing over who gets to choose a movie or make the dinner, burns brightly in his mind. Images that will never be anything more than that. In his head. No matter how clearly he can see them.

Stiles groans, pulling Derek back to reality.

“That was one time,” he says, holding up a finger. “Are you ever going to let me live that down? You can’t hold a drunk man’s words against him, plus you _are_ hot. So hot that probably everyone is going to think I’m paying you to be here with me, but,” he smiles, tapping his head, “ _that’s_ why we’ve been practicing the last two days.”

Derek wants to tell Stiles how beautiful he is then. That even if no-one at this reunion appreciates him for how amazing he is, it doesn’t matter because they’re fucking idiots. But it doesn’t come out. He can’t do it. Can’t risk Stiles reading too much into the words. Can’t bear the thought of the rejection that would immediately follow.

“By practicing, do you mean your subjecting me to _The Avengers_ five times and telling me about all the bones you have broken?” He raises an eyebrow, impressed with himself at managing to sound so casual, unaffected.

“Hey, I resent that,” Stiles says. “Now if I fall and something happens to me, you can be like ‘ _he broke his collarbone when he was five’_. I mean who would know something like that if not a long-term boyfriend?”

“In what universe am I going to reveal that information if you fall? That makes no sense.”

Stiles frowns, opening his mouth to speak and promptly closes it again. It makes him look a bit like an adorable gold-fish.

“You make me less smart,” he says eventually, still frowning.

“How do I make you less smart?” Derek challenges, raising both eyebrows and watching in amusement as Stiles’ gaze trails after them, like they usually do. Derek doesn’t see what’s so special about his eyebrows, but apparently “they’re really something” according to Laura, and if the way Stiles looks at them is anything to go by, he agrees.

“You know, you walk into a room and I-” but Stiles cuts himself off, blushing. “Fuck, I need to put pants on,” he says, looking down, the tips of his ears turning from pink to red. “I’ll be right back.”

Derek watches as Stiles dashes into the bathroom, confused. What the hell had that been? But the thought is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Stiles, are you in there?” a voice calls out, knocking again. “I just accidentally walked in on Allison and Kira. Together. As in, _walked in_ walked in on. Remember, Kira? The girl I dated to get over Allison? Stiles? You’ve got to let me in. Stiles? _Stiles!”_

This would be Scott then.

Derek opens the door promptly, and a dark, floppy haired pile of limbs comes crashing in and on to the floor. Derek can see why he’s Stiles’ best friend.

“Hi,” Scott stands up, giving Derek the brightest smile he’s ever seen. “You must be Derek.” Derek takes the outstretched hand Scott offers him and shakes it. Scott’s palms are kind of sweaty and Derek quickly wipes his hand on his pants as Scott turns away from him to close the door.

“Stiles talks about you all the time,” Scott says, returning, and Derek hears a crash inside the bathroom. Scott rolls his eyes in an eerily similar manner to Stiles before looking around the room, eyes landing on the bed.

“No offense man, but unless Stiles sleeps on top of you, there’s no way you’re both fitting in that.” Another noise comes from the bathroom and before Derek can make a reply, Stiles is stumbling back out and into the room, greeting Scott with a glare.

Derek doesn’t know what Stiles has to be angry about, but Scott doesn’t look the least bit apologetic, winking at Stiles and making Derek feel like he’s _actually_ back in high school again.

“We’re going to be late,” Stiles says. Derek looks at his watch.

“We’ve got half an hour,” he says, motioning between Scott and Stiles. “Maybe I should go?”

Scott waggles his eyebrows, again in a manner very similar to someone else he knows. Derek wonders if Scott even knows he’s doing it.

“Maybe _I_ should go,” he says, looking pointedly at Stiles. “That’s plenty of time for you-” but Stiles slaps a hand across Scott’s face, laughing nervously.

“So, what was that you were saying about Allison?” he asks and Scott’s head snaps towards the door, as though whoever this Allison person is might burst into the room at any moment.

Derek can’t help but feel a little sympathy for the look of horror on Scott’s face and goes to stand in front of the door, barricading it.

Scott beams at him and whispers something to Stiles who blushes in return, refusing to look Derek in the eye.

***

The gym hall looks exactly the way Derek remembers it, and even hidden behind the cloth lined tables and balloons, the memories still find a way to hit him hard, like a fork twisting in his gut. He thinks he’s going to be sick for a moment, visions of his Mom and Cora cheering him on at basketball games, his Dad calling his name that time he won the Spelling Bee, but then he feels something slip into his hand- Stiles’, lacing their fingers together. He doesn’t want to look up and see this for the show it is and instead focuses on his feet, getting his breathing under control, using Stiles’ touch like an anchor.

It helps, and when Stiles squeezes his hand, he finds himself looking up anyway.

Stiles isn’t looking at him in any kind of over dramatic way. He isn’t batting his eyelashes or trying to appear love-sick. He’s just…looking at him, and Derek doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse about the fact Stiles is right here and still too far away from him. Derek wants to be able to hold him, knowing he’ll be held right back when there is no-one around to witness it and the thought makes him question whether this whole thing was a good idea for other reasons than coming back to Beacon Hills.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks, turning into him, placing his other hand on Derek’s chest. The action cuts them off from the rest of the room, making Stiles into a kind of shield and Derek’s happy for the breather, even if half the trouble is Stiles himself.

“Just a lot of memories,” Derek whispers back.

Stiles nods.

“There were tons of places I couldn’t go to after my mom. I get it.” Derek’s grateful Stiles doesn’t add the accompanying _I’m sorry_ tothat that so many people often do.

“Where did Scott go?” Derek asks, realising he’s no longer beside them.

Stiles frowns, possibly not having noticed either. They scan the room together until their eyes land on him at the same time.

He’s talking to a curly haired boy, looking very uncomfortable in a suit and tie. Derek notices how he smiles, however, when Scott puts a hand on his arm and Stiles huffs a laugh beside him.

“Isaac,” he says. “Kind of a douche, but he and Scott were pretty good friends for a while back in junior year. His dad was the worst kind of asshole though,” his voice drops, turning sad. “Beat him. Eventually, Scott got him to speak up. Isaac moved to France after the arrest. Can’t say I blame him, but Scott was heartbroken.” He smiles. “Hey, maybe something good will come out of this ordeal after all.”

“I didn’t know you were a closet romantic,” Derek says, reigning in any thoughts of what hewishes _he_ could get from this “ordeal”.

“I’m not,” Stiles says, shrugging. “I’m just selfish. If they get together, then my position as best friend remains safe. I got seriously jealous of Isaac when he became friends with Scott. I wouldn’t have minded so much if I thought they had been screwing.”

“Charming,” Derek deadpans and Stiles punches him on the arm, laughing.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go get a table.” Derek nods, relieved at the prospect of going to sit in a corner somewhere, when they’re cut off by blonde girl with big brown eyes and red stained lips. A girl who, Derek doesn’t fail to note, is very, very proud of her cleavage, if the low-cut corset is anything to go by. Something, he realises, Stiles doesn’t fail to notice either.

“Stiles,” she cries, throwing her arms around his neck, practically plastering herself to him in the process.

Stiles gives Derek a surprised look, bringing up one arm to pat the blonde’s back.

Derek’s pleased when he realises Stiles doesn’t try to let go of his hand, even though it would be easier for him to do so.

“Erica?” Stiles stammers when he finally manages to pulls back. “Oh my god. Is that you?” Erica’s smile is almost predatory, but her eyes grow soft when they land on Stiles’ face.

“I’m hot now,” she whispers, wiggling her hips a little and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“You were always hot,” he says.

“Not hot enough to attract your attention, Stilinski,” she retorts and Stiles’ eyes widen. He looks shell shocked and something pathetic clenches in Derek’s gut.

“Wait,” Stiles says. “You…on me?”

“Uh huh,” Erica nods slowly. It should make her look patronising, really, but it’s more seductive than anything else and Derek’s stomach sinks as Stiles’ face flushes hot.

Derek has no doubts he is about to be introduced as nothing more than a “friend” any moment now, if Stiles even remembers to introduce him at all, that is. Luckily for Stiles, Erica turns her eyes on him then, giving him a very deliberate once over.

“Who’s your friend?”

 _This is it,_ Derek thinks and briefly wonders what’s worse: thinking someone is your boyfriend and having them introduce you as a friend at the last minute, or pretending to be someone’s boyfriend only be introduced as what you actually are (to them) at the very last moment.

“This is Derek,” Stiles says, confirming his suspicions that Erica is the luckiest goddamn person on the planet because Derek definitely didn’t hear any word that linked him to Stiles in a this-is-a-monogamous-thing kind of way. (He’s not bitter. He isn’t.)

“He’s handsome,” she says, winking and Derek _hates_ her. (So much for not being bitter then.) He knows it’s irrational. Stiles probably had a crush on her in high-school too and had just been too afraid to say anything about it, and now here’s his chance. That’s what reunions are about, right? Derek isn’t going to stand in the way of that.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Stiles laughs, squeezing his hand and Derek looks down, a lump in his throat because Stiles _still hasn’t let go._

It reminds him of the time he took Paige to the movies and even though she held his hand the whole way through it, she had still talked to and stole the other guy’s popcorn on the other side of her. Afterwards, he went home and cried on Laura’s shoulder; something he kind of wants to do right now, wondering if he could at least sneak out the room and call her.

“Derek?” Stiles’ voice brings him back to the present.

Erica is gone and Stiles has that concerned look on his face again that Derek really wishes he wouldn’t do. Why couldn’t he just play the jerk and leave him, giving Derek a valid excuse to hate him?

“That’s it,” Stiles says, misinterpreting his face and tugging at Derek’s arm. “This was too much. I knew it. We’re leaving.”

“No,” Derek states, pulling Stiles back to face him when he tries to lead him away. He is _not_ going to be that guy. Truthfully, he doesn’t know what kind of guy “that guy” he is referring to, but he isn’t going to be it. He’s going to suck this up and be the best whatever he is meant to be for the rest of the night. There is no way he is going to make Stiles resent him for having to leave with him early.

“It’s fine, Derek,” Stiles says. “Seriously. I came, I saw and everyone knows the picnic is the best part anyway. Erica’s the only person I liked back in high-school. Apart from Scott…and Lydia. But she was more hopeless crush than anything else and her boyfriend really hated me-”

“No,” Derek repeats, shaking his head. “You know what? I want to dance.” He has no idea where the words come from- he hasn’t danced in years- but suddenly, he finds himself leading Stiles onto the already very crowded dance floor, not stopping to think about the fact that despite they only just got here, the DJ is already playing a slow song. A _really slow song._

Derek has no idea what it is, but Stiles frown turns to a grin so fast it gives him emotional whiplash as he sinks into Derek’s arms and starts humming along with the words.

It’s unexpected, how easily Stiles’ body presses against his and Derek wants to pull away, shout at Stiles for doing this to him, for being so goddamn perfect that he agreed to this in the first place, but instead, he finds himself wrapping his arms around Stiles and pulling him _closer_. Stiles makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat and Derek feels like he’s floating, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, smelling the soap on Stiles’ skin and nothing else. Just him, and Derek tries not to let himself ache, but it’s a losing battle.

They begin to sway like that, rooted to the spot and Stiles hugs him tighter, pressing his cheek into Derek’s neck and Derek thinks he can feel a smile there, just a small one, but it’s enough that when he looks up to see Erica staring at them, all rational thought escapes him and he lets a hand slide down Stiles’ back, pausing only briefly before grabbing his ass, staring Erica down the whole time.

He doesn’t continue to look to see what her reaction is, surprised by the soft moan that escapes Stiles’ lips, vibrating against his skin in a way that make his whole body shiver.

They break apart quickly when the song ends, but Stiles doesn’t give Derek the chance to feel awkward or apologise, taking his hand and leading them over to one of the tables.

Stiles takes the opportunity to point out everyone he remembers in the room. Derek’s vaguely aware of the names like Lydia and Jackson sounding in his ears, something about some guy named Greenberg and, “oh my god, he’s sitting with Coach Finstock! Derek they’re holding hands!”

Derek thinks he remembers the Coach, but all he can focus on is how it felt to be that close to Stiles and he knows he’s going to regret it, that it’s going to hurt him in the morning when Stiles isn’t there next to him, but he also knows there’s a chance Stiles might not say no. He may not want what Derek wants, may not be in love with him- no, Derek _knows_ Stiles isn’t in love with him- but suddenly, all Derek can think about is what it would be like to have Stiles, just for one night, and before Stiles can finish whatever he’s saying about someone named Boyd and how “they look really good together”, his mouth catches Stiles’ lips in a hungry kiss, cutting him off.

Stiles moans into it, pulling back only fractionally, perhaps deciding if this is really how he wants to spend his night, before surging back in and licking his way into Derek’s mouth.

Derek lets him in happily, a thrill running through him at the thought that, for tonight at least, he’s better than a sexy blonde with killer legs, cupping the back of Stiles’ neck and deepening the kiss, massaging his tongue and trying to ignore how he feels it all the way down to his toes.

“Do you want to maybe-” Stiles pants against him, eyes blown wide. Derek presses his lips to Stiles’ once more, mumbling a yes into them, a yes to anything he wants, and the next thing he knows he’s own his feet, following Stiles through a crowd of people he can’t bring himself to see, like that weird gym hall sequence in _West Side Story._

It’s only a short walk back to the hotel- eight minutes to be exact, Scott had told them on the way there- but it’s far too long for Derek to handle, making Stiles walk backwards and he kisses him, pulling at his shirt and loosening it from his pants so he can slide a hand under and up his chest, feeling that hot skin beneath his twitching palm and tweaking at a nipple, making Stiles groan filthily in response, and Stiles…Stiles isn’t much better, pushing Derek up against every other tree and rutting against him, letting Derek feel how hard he is as he kisses down his neck, switching between murmuring sweet nothings and every dirty thing he wants to do to him in his ear.

It makes Derek’s knees weak and he has to hold onto Stiles’ shoulders for support when he presses him against one of their doors- Derek has no idea which one- and finds _that_ spot just below his ear, biting down on it and making him see stars before Stiles opens the door, pushing them inside and shoving Derek against it again.

“Got a thing about doors?” he asks breathlessly.

“I’ve got a thing about _you_ and doors,” Stiles says, reaching down to cup Derek through his pants and downright _smirking_ when Derek whimpers.

“Stiles _, bed_ ,” Derek pleads, sliding down the door, but Stiles catches him with surprisingly strong arms, shaking his head.

“I want to make you come so many times, Derek,” Stiles whispers- promises- “until you’re begging for me to stop.” He licks a line up Derek’s neck and unbuttons his shirt, kissing down his chest whilst making approving sounds.

“I know you must hear it all the time, but you’re so beautiful,” he says, eyes catching Derek’s and making his heart stutter before pushing the shirt off his shoulders and slowly sliding it down his arms until the material bunches at his elbows.

“Never,” Derek whispers, not meaning to say it, so low he prays Stiles doesn’t hear, but the room is silent and Stiles snaps his head up from kissing Derek’s biceps.

“Never what?” he asks and Derek clears his throat.

“Never been told I’m beautiful before,” he shrugs, going in for a kiss, trying to ignore the way his cheeks heat up, but Stiles pulls back, wide-eyed.

“Who the hell have you been sleeping with?” he asks, truly looking dumbfounded and Derek doesn’t know what surprises him more; the smile that works its way on to his face, or the fact he realises he trusts Stiles enough to say-

“Everyone I have ever slept with has only done it to use me. For my body, sometimes to get me to read a book they’ve written, once or twice it’s been about getting closer to Laura.” He closes his eyes. “You think I’d learn, but I guess I’m hoping one day I’ll wake up and the person I went to bed with will still be there in the morning, just content to be with…me.”

It’s more than he means to say and opening his eyes, he’s certain Stiles is going to pull away, maybe put on a movie because that’s the thing about Stiles: he’s an asshole, but not a dick. He knows so little about Derek, but everything Derek has told him he remembers, like he _cares,_ and while it’s not the kind of care he wants, it’s still a shock to Derek’s system, watching those amber eyes grow all wide and significant whenever Derek confesses something to him, laughing when Derek doesn’t expect Stiles to find it funny, sometimes gently touching him on the arm or hip- touches Derek knows Stiles isn’t reading into, but touches that mean the world to him, that make him want to tell Stiles every personal thing he has ever done or thought, just to feel Stiles’ hand on him, comforting, soothing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Stiles asks, but he doesn’t pull away yet and Derek shakes his head, wondering if he can still salvage this and find a way back to the thoughtless (see: trying really hard to think of this as casual) passion they had been feeling only moments before.

“You’ve never been in a relationship?” Again, Derek shakes his head and Stiles looks conflicted for a moment, but then he’s pushing Derek’s shirt off the rest of the way, letting it fall to the floor before whispering, “I’m going to make this good for you.”

Derek can’t quite understand the way he says it, sounding more like someone reminding themselves to do something rather than something they mean to say aloud- like Stiles really means it- and Derek nearly asks him to stop, afraid he’s about to cry, but when Stiles’ hand slides down between them and cups Derek through his pants once more, all he can do is let his head fall back against the door and moan.

“I’d like you to come like this for me,” he says, tracing the tip of his tongue over Derek’s lips. “In your pants, just like a teenager.” Stiles groans like he’s picturing it, using his free hand to lace his fingers through Derek’s and pinning them above his head. Derek raises his other hand, letting Stiles take hold of it too, enjoying the way it allows Stiles to press in closer to him.

“Kiss me?” Derek breathes shakily. He’s never asked someone for that before, for something that, for most, is so casual, the least dirty thing they could do, and yet for Derek it’s the most intimate, the most intense.

Stiles kisses him slowly, taking his time exploring Derek’s mouth. It makes him feel exposed, realising for the first time he’s never kissed anyone for longer than a few seconds at a time and it’s like Stiles _knows_ , kissing Derek like he’s drowning- Derek has written that line so many times in his books, thinking it nothing more than an overused simile, but now he knows it’s not. There really is a way to kiss like you’re drowning and Derek shudders with it, whimpering into Stiles’ mouth when he stops touching him, leaving Derek to dry hump the air as Stiles moves his hand to caress the side of his face instead.

“Come for me, sweetheart, whenever you can,” Stiles whispers and that’s what does it; not the command, but the way Stiles makes him feel like he would wait for hours if that’s what Derek needed and making a sound he’s never heard from himself before he comes _hard_ , unable to help but preen a little at the look of awe that washes over Stiles’ face before burying it in Derek’s neck, panting heavily, like he’s the one being taken apart here.

They stay like that until their breathing evens out, Stiles lazily kissing Derek’s neck, open mouthed and sloppy and then, suddenly, there’s two hands sliding the belt from his pants and pulling his zipper down.

Stiles’ breath hitches as Derek feels cool air travelling down his legs and when he looks down, it’s to Stiles staring at his completely soaked boxers.

Derek begins to shift uncomfortably under the scrutiny, but Stiles stills him with his hands, pinning his hips to the door as he leans forward and starts sucking at Derek’s spent cock through the material, tasting him, and even though the over-stimulation has him biting his lip, he doesn’t ask Stiles to stop, too enraptured by the sight of him down on his knees, those lips so close to where he so often imagines them.

“Stiles. Please?” He doesn’t know what he’s asking for, but when Stiles presses his lips to his again he knows Stiles does.

“It’s okay,” he says in between kisses. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” The last part is barely audible and Derek wonders if he is supposed to hear it, but when Stiles leads him over to the bed he doesn’t try to dwell on it, mesmerised as Stiles pushes him down on the bed and begins to undress in front of him.

He does it slowly, like a strip tease, and on some level Derek’s amused, watching as Stiles fumbles at some of the buttons on his shirt, but mostly he just finds it sexy and incredibly endearing. Derek has no idea how someone can be as sexy as a wet dream and endearing as Bambi (or some other equally adorable woodland creature) at the same time, but apparently Stiles can, reaching into his pants to tease himself, bold enough to look at Derek, but still unable to help a shy, unsure smile.

“Don’t freak, okay?” he says, beginning to inch both pants and boxers down his hips. “I can take it out if you don’t like it.” Derek frowns, not understanding, but unable to draw his eyes up to Stiles’ face, too fascinated by his hands and how finally, after so long, he’s going to see Stiles naked. He feels like a school-boy at the thought, an over-excited virgin all over again, but he doesn’t care enough to chastise himself because when Stiles finally frees himself of his last piece of clothing, Derek’s brain short-circuits.

He’s never been caught up in a daydream no-one could break him out of before, had someone’s fingers snapping in front of his face, calling his name ten times over, but Stiles’ cock does something to Derek that makes him realise cock _worship_ may actually be a very real thing and the rest of the world a long distant memory. It’s not larger than the average length, but it’s _thick_ and flushed and _pierced_ and Derek _wants._

He doesn’t realise how is mouth has filled with salvia until some escapes, running down his chin. He quickly wipes it away, embarrassed and Stiles laughs.

“I guess I had no reason to be worried,” he says, coming to stand in front of Derek. “Hi,” he whispers when Derek finally looks up at him. “Nice to know you remembered I have a face.”

Derek swallows, unsure what to say. Comebacks are Stiles’ thing, not his, and as much as he wants to hide his shameless admiration for Stiles’ cock, he can’t help it, reaching out and eagerly taking it in hand.

Stiles lets his head fall back on a moan as Derek works a hand up and down the shaft, already fully hard, his own cock trying to take an interest again at the sight of pre-come beading at the tip and sliding down the curve of the ring there.

“A Prince Albert,” Stiles says and Derek nods. He had asked Stiles to research those a while ago and it does something to him to think Stiles maybe got it because of him.

Derek wants to put his mouth on it, but instead finds himself giving the ring a gentle tug. The sound Stiles makes in response makes him bolder, doing it again until Stiles’ legs start shaking, hands reaching out as if trying to take hold of something.

Derek obliges him by taking hold of his waist, lifting him up and throwing them both down on the small bed with an _oomph,_ causing Stiles to laugh. The sound makes Derek grin and he’s once again struck by how beautiful Stiles is.

“Whoever made you feel less than perfect at this school is going to get their throat ripped out tomorrow,” Derek says, leaning down to lick around one of Stiles’ nipples. It buds perfectly under the touch and when Derek takes it between his teeth, Stiles’ whole body arches off the bed.

“Who said you were allowed to look the way you do _and_ be sweet. That’s not fair, Derek! You can’t just say-”

“If you finish that cliché, I’m going to rip _your_ throat out,” Derek cuts him off, kissing his way down Stiles’ chest, enjoying the way each mole feels against his lips. “With my teeth.”

“Promises, prom- _Derek!_ ” Stiles cries when he traces the vein on the underside of his cock with his tongue.

“How sensitive does it make you?” Derek asks, kissing around the shaft sloppily, making it as wet as he can as he works his way towards the head.

“Very,” Stiles gasps out. “Multi-orgasmic.”

“Really?” Derek’s head snaps up and Stiles whines, spreading his legs and fisting his hands in the comforter.

“Yes, really. Doesn’t happen often though.” He sobs. “Please, Derek. _Please.”_

Derek has had so many fantasies about slowly torturing Stiles, bringing him to a whimpering, puddled mess below him, but the thought of getting his mouth on him wins out. It takes a couple of minutes to get used to the sensation of the piercing, but he adapts quickly, running his tongue over it and, feeling bold, nipping, so, so gently at the slit. The sensation causes Stiles to cry out, pre-come leaking into his mouth.

Derek crawls back up Stiles’ body, letting him taste himself, wide eyes staring up at him, cheeks stained with fresh tears.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks, wiping them away. Stiles nods.

“Just feels so good,” he whispers. “You’ve no idea how long I-” but he stops, smiling instead, looking down. “You’re hard again.”

Derek raises his eyebrows.

“Your fault,” he says, burying his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck to hide his smile.

He waits for the sarcastic reply, the witty comment, but what he gets instead is Stiles’ fingers tracing down his back. It’s tender at first, nothing more than a caress, but then ones dips into his hole and Derek’s whole body jerks.

“Fuck!” he cries.

“If you want,” Stiles whispers and _there it is._ The joke Derek hates most in this world and yet, somehow, turning him on in ways he can’t describe. _There’s a first time for everything,_ he hears Laura in his head, quickly shutting her out because _Laura._ He is _not_ going to be his own boner-killer here.

“Can you?” Derek asks. “With- uh- that?” He nods at the piercing and Stiles answers with one of his shit-eating grins, kneading Derek’s ass and spreading his cheeks.

"I'm clean as well," Stiles whispers, making Derek shiver at the implication. 

“Me too," he says. "Please." Stiles brings one hand up to his mouth then, coating his finger with salvia in a way that can only be designed to torment Derek, before bringing it back down and trailing between his cheeks. He shivers and Stiles leans up to turn them over, but Derek shakes his head.

“Like this?” he asks. “I want to-” but he doesn’t know how to ask, instead leaning further forward and capturing Stiles’ mouth is a kiss. It starts hungry, but Stiles slows it down, exploring Derek’s mouth again, taking his time.

Derek doesn’t know if it’s the way Stiles curves his tongue around his or the sudden appearance of a lubed finger at his entrance- it must be Stiles’ bed, he thinks absently- but Derek can’t quite breathe and when Stiles whispers, “help hold yourself open for me, sweetheart,” Derek makes the most pathetic sound he’s ever heard.

Bracing himself on his forearm, he moves one hand back to do as Stiles asks, heart flipping stupidly at the thought of Stiles’ fingers being so close to his as Stiles pushes inside.

He can’t get very far at this angle, but it’s enough for Derek to feel the stretch, the slight burn feeling _so damn good_ because that is _Stiles_ opening him up and biting his lip, looks down to see Stiles staring at him, eyes roaming his face like he can’t get enough and even though Derek knows this is just for tonight, he knows he will never forget that look. A look that makes him feel worthy and maybe just a little precious. It makes him ache _everywhere,_ pre-come leaking onto Stiles’ chest.

“Before,” Stiles says, adding a second finger, “what did you want?” Derek’s cheeks heat up and he closes his eyes when Stiles crooks his fingers, stifling a groan.

“Derek,” Stiles says, “look at me.” Derek does and is rewarded with a smile. “I’ll give you anything you want.” He wants to make some dumb joke about the moon and stars, something he thinks Stiles will appreciate, but what comes out is-

“I want to ride you.”

Derek watches as Stiles bites back a laugh and he looks away again.

“I shouldn’t have said, sorry.”

“What?” Stiles, well, there’s no other words for it, squawks, stopping the movements of his hand, but not taking his fingers out. It feels more intimate in a way, having Stiles in him, but for no purpose, but Stiles shows no signs of feeling awkward, just concerned and Derek sighs because of course, now he is going to have to fucking talk about it.

“It’s just…guys…” he shrugs, “don’t tend to let me ride them.” Stiles narrows his eyes.

“What do you mean they don’t ‘let you’?” he asks. Derek’s probably an ugly shade of red by now and he goes to move away, but Stiles starts sliding his fingers in and out once more, three knuckles deep now, and Derek stills, slumping down a little until his face is nestled in Stiles’ neck. He breathes him in and it settles him slightly.

“They always just assume I want to top, which, you know, I really like, but sometimes…”

“Sometimes you just need a good fucking?”

Derek raises his head, attempting a glare, but nods instead when Stiles scissors his fingers, biting his lip. Something crosses over Stiles’ features then, turning them angry at first, before going soft.

“You want them to be there in the morning…” he whispers. “So you don’t contradict them.” Derek nods again, frowning a little because how is it Stiles can read him so well when he barely knows himself anymore?

He waits for the _oh_ or the pitying sound and, because it’s Stiles, maybe the _I can fuck you if you want_ , but what he gets instead is, “Get up here, cowboy,” removing his fingers and pushing at Derek’s ass until he can feel Stiles’ cock rubbing over his hole.

“Are you sure?” Derek asks, not wanting to give Stiles a chance to say no, but doing so anyway because there’s some part of him that can’t help but sabotage himself most of the time. The part that’s scared to give anyone a real chance of hurting him. Unfortunately for Derek, that ship has most likely already sailed with Stiles and all he can do is try and take in everything now, see and feel as much as he can and remember it later.

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my entire fucking life,” Stiles says, punctuating each word and slicking up his cock, making the ring glisten. It’s one of the hottest things Derek has ever seen and he wants it inside him more than anything.

Stiles laughs and he realises he’s said that out loud.

“I’m glad I make for good spank bank material,” he grins, “now, _come on._ ”

Derek doesn’t have to be told twice, taking hold of Stiles’ cock and positioning it behind him.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Stiles says, forcing Derek to look at him. “Here,” he offers Derek a finger and Derek sucks on it dutifully, getting lost in the way Stiles’ eyes widen, watching intently as Derek lowers himself down onto his cock, groaning when he’s fully seated. “You okay?”

Derek nods his head, but doesn’t answer, biting down on Stiles’ finger before placing both hands on his chest. He doesn’t ever remember feeling this _full_ and when he starts to move, rising up and sinking back down, it’s even better, the piercing hitting his prostrate _just so_ making him cry out and clench around Stiles’ cock.

It’s intense and when he sinks down again, harder this time, Stiles’ hands scramble up, finding purchase on Derek’s shoulders as he opens his mouth and moans Derek’s name. Derek’s whole body goes on fire at the sound and he begins to move faster, desperate to touch himself, but determined not to, wanting to come just from this alone, wanting Stiles to come first.

Stiles gets more vocal with each fall, Derek’s name getting louder and louder and Derek is certain anyone in the building must hear it, but he doesn’t stop, wanting this, _needing_ to hear Stiles.

“That’s right,” he says. “Let me hear you. Come on, Stiles, you can do better than that.” He doesn’t know what’s come over him, he never talks during sex, but he’s always liked challenging Stiles, it’s how they work most of the time, and just like he knows he won’t, Stiles doesn’t disappoint, shouting out Derek’s name and letting his hands fall on top of his, squeezing at fingers and then he’s screaming- actually screaming- whole body tensing as he comes.

Derek rides him through it, chasing his own release, and when Stiles opens his eyes and thrusts up into him, hitting his prostate over and over, fingers digging into Derek’s sides, Derek clenches around him, trying to keep him there as long as possible, and just like that, Stiles tenses again, mouth going slack with pleasure as he comes once more and Derek’s own orgasm hits him hard, eyes locking on Stiles’ as he shoots all over himself and the beautiful expanse of skin below him. He wants to smear it in, but Stiles beats him to it and Derek whimpers before collapsing down on top of him, breathing hard, body trembling.

He can feel Stiles’ heartbeat like this, beating just as fast as Derek’s and he tries to say something, but when one of Stiles’ arms curl around him, the other rubbing up and down his thigh in a soothing manner, Derek just nestles in beside him and basks in the feeling of just being held.

***

Stiles stays with him all night. He can barely sleep for checking- for hoping- but when morning comes, he’s gone. Like he expects.

Derek tries to ignore the pain that shoots through him. He knew this was a one-time thing for Stiles, but he had still thought he might-

Derek shakes his head and scolds himself when hot tears sting his eyes. He will _not_ cry. He will not. Unfortunately, few things ever go Derek’s way and his body betrays him, stupid, fat tears rolling down his face just as he hears, “No! I’m here. I’m still here,” and then he has an armful of Stiles and a muffin placed into his hand as Stiles crowds even further into his space, forcing him to look up at him.

“You stayed,” he whispers and Stiles nods like one of those bobble heads and Derek wants to laugh, but he can’t because he’s confused and Stiles is _here_ and-

“I had no plans on leaving you. None. But then Scott called all freaked out because he woke up drunk and naked in Isaac’s room and he was hiding in the bathroom and well,” Stiles rolls his eyes, “I _am_ his best friend so, of course, I then had to go and find Isaac’s room because otherwise I knew I’d be on the phone with him for at least an hour and- fuck, you know what? No.” He takes a breath and kisses Derek, chaste, but enough to make Derek feel it in his bones- he’s starting to think there’s nothing that Stiles does he doesn’t feel intensely in some way. “That’s better,” he sighs and Derek agrees. Derek agrees so much, but-

“I know I said last night, about people staying, but I don’t want you feeling guilty-” Derek starts to say, but Stiles cuts him off with another kiss, just as sweet. Just as tender.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever had someone other than Laura tell you they love you since- since- so I’m fully aware you might not believe me when I say I love you, but I do. Love you, that is and, actually, I put this far more eloquently when I was drunk. Hang on.”

Stiles scrambles off Derek’s lap and picks up his discarded pants from the floor, fishing through the pockets and pulling out his phone.

Derek watches as he tries to find something on it before Stiles is sitting in front of him again and a message starts playing, a message with a highly intoxicated Stiles crying down the phone because _he’s beautiful, Scott_ and _when I’m with him I feel right, you know, why do I feel so fucking right when I’m with him?_ There’s some more crying and then a simple _I’ve never been in love before, wow, this sucks_ before Stiles ends the recording.

“Okay, so maybe it wasn’t so much eloquent as embarrassing, but, you know.” Stiles shrugs his shoulders and Derek stares at him. Really stares at him and because he feels like he has to, pinches himself.

Stiles laughs and kisses the skin where it’s turned red.

“You’re not dreaming,” he says.

“I can’t say it yet,” Derek whispers, taking Stiles’ face in his hands. “I can’t say it, but I think it all the time.” He wants to be able to say the words, they would be so easy to say really, but he can’t. He’s never had this before and he just can’t, afraid he’ll get burned. Afraid it’s all some joke.

“I’ll be right here when you are,” Stiles whispers. “Every morning.”

And that? That has Derek starting to believe.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: cock piercings really are something which can cause multiple orgasms for some people! 
> 
> My [ tumblr!](http://pale-silver-comb.tumblr.com/) Come say hi?


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